Chop and Change
by HerMajestyElsa
Summary: To escape her past, Alexandria runs away to Beacon Hills only to face her problems with Peter Hale. Set before the Hale house fire.
1. Chapter 1

It never took me long to hitch a ride from a stranger. I didn't have the money for a taxi and was looking to go much farther than that. I was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana for the first eighteen years of my life and once I could leave, I left. I packed a bag and flew the coop the second I could. I didn't have a shot in hell in college; I dropped out after a semester. It's not that I wasn't smart, but I just didn't have the money. So I bartended on Bourbon Street and made a lot of money in tips before I threw everything in a backpack and decided to head west after an altercation that didn't end too well. I always managed to get a free ride from some kind gentleman who was naïve enough to let a pretty girl in dirty clothes into his car. I became the master of the hijack, and I managed to leave five men stranded on the side of the highway after I stole their car and drove it until it ran out of gas. Removing my fingerprints from the car was surprisingly easy and I would check out the news and police reports every time: not a trace of me left behind. I was a natural when it came to this criminal stuff.

I decided that I had gone far enough when I reached northern California. I left the car behind in Oakley but hiked my way over to Beacon Hills a few towns over. I stopped there due to the mass amount of abandoned locations that I managed to find, making it the perfect place for a homeless girl to stay.

I didn't realize, however, the mass amount of wolves that Beacon Hills had. I heard howling often at night, but I didn't want to blow all of the remaining money I had from bartending on a hotel. I used public restrooms whenever I needed one and I used the sinks in the handicap stalls to bathe. It wasn't as nice as a shower, and I realized over time that I needed to step up my game and start breaking into homes in order to bathe. The first few break-ins were successful. I scoped out the place before, making sure no one was home and that there were no alarms. Some people didn't even lock their doors. My showers were quick, so getting out of there before they got home wasn't a concern.

It was the seventh house that I broke into in which I was caught. I didn't realize that the house had a basement and figured no one was home. As I stepped out of my shower and slipped on my bra and panties, the door kicked open and a knife was thrown at me. I managed to dodge it in time, being warned by the kicked open door, and I immediately ran for it and grasped it. The person who threw it also made a dash for it but I reached it before he did. He tried disarming me but failed – it was a good thing I took karate lessons as a kid and had adrenaline rushing at this point – and I kicked him down and immediately straddled him, putting the knife to his throat. He was rather attractive. He had dark hair and large blue eyes, with full lips and defined cheekbones.

"It's funny," he spoke, his voice as smooth as you'd expect it to be, "how you're the one who broke into my house but I'm the one who has a knife to my throat."

"I didn't think I was doing anything wrong, pretty boy," I frowned. "After all, you threw a knife at me which I thought was completely unnecessary."

"You broke into my house!" he reminded me. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"I was leaving in like two minutes anyways," I told him. "You could have just asked nicely instead of trying to kill me."

"You can get off of me now," he glared.

"What, do you have a problem with mostly naked women on top of you?" I teased, giving him a wink as I removed the knife from his neck, but not letting go of it. "I mean, if that's your thing, I won't judge. The hot ones are always gay."

"No, it's just that it's distracting me from the fact that you broke into my house. That's a potential felony."

"I'm pretty sure attempted murder will get you more years in jail than me just breaking into your house to borrow your shower," I grinned. He let out a laugh.

"I'm sure they'd understand," he defended himself. "Now if you wouldn't mind getting off of me and out of my house, I would appreciate it."

"You could at least be a little more polite," I rolled my eyes, getting off of him but keeping the knife. "My goodness, didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

I felt his eyes on me as I bent over to pick up my clothes and as I slowly put them on. I did my best to make him feel as uncomfortable as possible, and I also had to make sure to not cut my clothes or myself with the knife. "I don't think manners apply when someone breaks into your home," he frowned. "And regardless, I don't really care for manners."

"If you're going to check me out that much," I retorted as I put my jacket on, "then the least you could do is ask me out to dinner."

"What if instead, I let you shower here from now on so you stop breaking into people's houses?" he leaned against the door, his hands finding his pockets.

"What's the catch?" I asked, tying my boots.

"You have to shower with me," he winked.

I could only laugh in shock. "Oh! Well then," I placed my hands on my hips, still holding the knife. I made sure it was pointing away from me. "I suppose it's better than nothing."

"Are you serious?" he asked, looking skeptical. "I was serious."

"So am I," I bit my bottom lip as I smiled. "Considering I have to break into people's houses, it'll be nice to be allowed for a change. But why are you being so generous, Mister..?"

"Hale," he introduced. "Peter, to be specific. It's because part of me actually kind of feels bad for you, considering you're homeless yet very attractive and presumably in my age group. Also, your accent suggests that you are definitely not from around here and have nowhere else to go. I do have a heart deep in here somewhere," he placed his fist on his chest.

"Ouch, homeless is a rough way to word it," I shook my head. "I've found a comfortable place to sleep in that old distillery, thank you very much."

"Well, how about this," Peter crossed his arms. "If you're nice enough, maybe I'll even give you a nice bed to sleep in."

"And how do I know you won't kill me?"

"I don't even know your name, sweetheart," Peter smirked.

"Alexandria," I gave him the satisfaction. "Don't call me Lexi."

"Can't make any promises." Peter winked at me as I slipped past him out of his bathroom. He walked with me to the front door. "Do I get my knife back?"

"After you threw it at me?" I feigned pondering. "Maybe one day," I flashed him a smile.

"I'm gonna like you," Peter declared. "When should I expect you to come by next?"

"When am I allowed? Don't want any more knives thrown at me."

"This time tomorrow morning?" he suggested. I checked my watch: it was 9:30 AM.

"I'll be back," I waved to Peter, who waved back as I through the woods in order to explore the town a bit. I wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into, but I figured things couldn't get any worse.


	2. Chapter 2

When I walked up to the Hale house the next morning, he was waiting for me on the front steps. He stood when I showed up with nothing but the clothes on my back and a small cosmetics bag in hand. "You actually came?" Peter called out to me. I wasn't sure if I was going to love or hate this guy. He was very charming and definitely easy on the eyes, but I couldn't tell if he was incredibly sarcastic, a total jerk, a manipulative bastard, or a bit of all of the above.

"I'm here, aren't I?" I continued heading towards the house. "I figured, eh, what the hell."

"I'm surprised you actually trust me."

"I don't," I rolled my eyes.

"Clearly enough to come back," Peter pointed out. "I mean, after all, I did try to kill you only twenty-four hours ago and then had you come back here mainly for my own selfish reasons." He was incredibly blunt, and I couldn't tell if I appreciated it or if it made me want to punch him.

"I just have nothing left to lose at this point and figured that this is better than going to jail." Peter didn't have a response to that, so he simply led me to the bathroom that I showered in yesterday morning. I set my cosmetics bag on the table and took out my razor, sample sized shampoo, conditioner and body wash.

"You know," Peter spoke, "I did some thinking earlier during my shower this morning and came to the conclusion that you don't actually have to shower with me."

"What's the catch now?" I eyed him.

"There is no catch," he shrugged. "Perhaps, Miss Alex, I just genuinely feel bad for what you're going through right now after I unnecessarily threw that knife at you, and would like to get to know you a little bit better."

I laughed as I began to strip. "You don't have any friends, do you?" I accused, standing there in my shorts and bra. I began to kick my boots off as Peter responded.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he held his hands up. "That's not a very nice way to put it, Alex. Can I call you Alex?"

"You already have," I smirked. He shielded his eyes as I began to unclasp my bra.

"You could have warned me, I'd at least like to show you a little respect. But, I guess you're right. I'll stay here while you shower in case someone comes home, I'd hate to have someone call the police on you. I won't peek though."

"I don't care, Peter," I rolled my eyes as I turned on the water and stepped into the shower, closing the curtain.

"You seem surprisingly okay with a stranger seeing your naked body," he pointed out. I heard him close the lid of the toilet, probably to give him a place to sit. "Am I missing something here?"

"Let's not talk about it," I responded dryly as I began to wash up. That brought back memories that weren't exactly pleasant. I wasn't too thrilled with Peter beginning to pry into my personal life already, but I had no other choice but to make a friend in this town, especially when said friend was offering a place to bathe and maybe even sleep in the future.

"Alright then. So where are you from, Alex? Clearly the south, but where? Your southern belle voice doesn't exactly match your 'I don't give a shit' attitude."

"Louisiana," I answered. "New Orleans. I'm from the Garden District, but went back and forth between there and the French Quarter when my parents divorced when I was sixteen until I turned eighteen. I had to settle in the French Quarter because of work. Sometimes you gotta learn to grow up real quick."

"How old are you now?" he asked.

"Twenty," I answered. "Didn't go to college. I was there for a semester. Couldn't afford it."

"I didn't go either," Peter smiled. "Waste of time, if you ask me. I was right about you being in my age bracket, too."

"You are very observant," I noted. "Any more theories about me?" At this point, I was just trying to amuse him.

"Oh, plenty," Peter confirmed with the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "But, I'm sure you aren't willing to get too personal yet."

"Is that also a theory?" I laughed. He chuckled.

"I suppose. Is it right?"

"Very much so," I grinned. "But, hey, try me. Let's see what you got."

"Virgin?" Peter asked next. I chuckled.

"That is for me and my dorm room to know and for me and my dorm room only," I answered. He laughed. "What about you? I think it's only fair that I ask the same."

Peter paused before answering. I already knew it though. "No."

"Liar," I called him out.

"What? Come on, Alex. Look at me," he pressed. I giggled, sticking my head out from behind the curtain.

"You may have a pretty face," I smirked, looking Peter up and down, "but that doesn't mean anything if you're an asshole," I winked as I went back to my shower.

"Oh!" Peter laughed in shock. "Hey, you know what? I'm going to let that one slide."

"How gracious of you," I dryly thanked. Peter just laughed as he moved on to the next question.

"When did you leave New Orleans?" Peter asked. I frowned.

"A few months ago, probably six or seven. I just got here about two weeks ago." As I finished my shower, I turned the water off and Peter passed me a towel. He didn't realize it – or maybe he did - but his hand was awfully close to my chest. "I stayed in Los Angeles for about a month, and then San Francisco for a month as well. It's probably better that I left."

"Why did you settle on Beacon Hills?"

"A lot of abandoned locations," I stepped out. I removed the towel and began to dress. Peter initially turned away, but I could feel his eyes on me. "This place is pretty remote, too. I'm currently living off of the money I have left-over from New Orleans. It's still quite a bit, but it's dwindling. Gotta focus on the essentials first, y'know?"

"Can we hang out?" Peter then asked. I smiled at him once my shirt was over my head and on my body. I was surprised that he hadn't asked me why I was telling him anything at all. If he did ask me, I wouldn't have an answer for him. I honestly didn't know why I was confiding this information in a stranger; even if I were to use him, I didn't have to get so in detail about my life. I didn't need him to help me, it was just convenient, and so why I even bothered surprised me about myself. There was something about Peter Hale that struck a chord with me, however, that resonated on a completely different level than anybody else. We were two of a kind, really. You could see it in his eyes.

"I suppose," I smirked. "It's the least I could do for you letting me use your shower."

Peter smiled. He may have been dry and sarcastic, and even a bit of an asshole, but I could see right past that tough exterior of his. He was a lonely soul just like I was.


	3. Chapter 3

I began spending more time with Peter outside of our time together while I showered and he sat in the bathroom talking to me. It was a good thing that he did stay there with me, because we had a few occasions where his younger family members would still be home. It was a massive house, made of brick and definitely fit for the amount of people that lived here. If I wasn't mistaken, there were eleven or twelve Hales that lived in this house. Peter and I were lucky that I wasn't caught. We would escape to the woods during the day to have our privacy, and as the days went on, they grew longer. We went from spending an hour together to two, then two became three, and eventually he would even walk me back to the distillery at night and make sure I was okay. He offered to let me spend the night at his family's home but I didn't want to risk getting caught there. As much as I wanted to, the distillery was more comfortable than a jail cell. I also didn't trust Peter one-hundred percent. I could tell that he was a master at manipulation and was never sure when exactly he was going to strike, if he hadn't already.

We had one night about three weeks in that I had to stay at the Hale house, which to me was a terrifying idea. Peter and I stayed out a little too late in the woods and were laying out watching the stars. I don't know how or when his arm found its way around my shoulders, and I don't know how or when my head found its way against his chest. I most certainly didn't know how or when Peter interlaced my fingers with his own. It just happened as we laid out under the stars and laughed at each other's stories and got to know each other. The whole thing seemed very out of character for someone like Peter, who typically gave off this very nonchalant attitude as sarcasm dripped from his voice. It seemed pretty out of character for me, too, I guess. I didn't want to get too close to anyone, especially considering how quickly I'd be on the move again. That's why I was so hesitant to look for work: by the time I started to settle in a place, I had to pack up and go again.

Mid-laughter, Peter suddenly stopped. His expression hardened as he sat up, making me shift away from him in the slightest. He looked incredibly focused, and his eyes looked cold. "What is it?" I asked him, sitting up with him. Peter didn't answer except for by placing a finger to his lips. I was confused; I didn't hear or see anything. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes and just listening.

"Someone is coming," he whispered, turning to me as he opened his eyes again. "Come on, we gotta get out of here."

"I didn't hear anything." I was still confused. He shook his head and stood, holding out a hand.

"Trust me. I know. Come on," he urged, so I grabbed his hand and he helped me up. We swiftly walked out of the woods, trying to stay silent. I eventually started hearing the footsteps in the distance. The sound the boots made sounded like cops. "Grab your bag," Peter nodded towards the distillery once we reached it, "but then get out of there. You're staying at my place tonight. There's bound to be more cops out here." I didn't think, I just did as he said. I couldn't risk being arrested tonight. Peter was there for me still outside of the distillery as I came out, taking my hand again as we ran to the Hale house. We slowed down when we got closer, but we stopped dead in our tracks when we heard someone clearing their throat behind us. Peter and I stopped dead in our tracks, turning to face the police officer who shone his flashlight directly on us. I was terrified, but tried my best to not show it. Peter remained cool and collected.

"Good evening, officer," he smiled. The officer wasn't buying it right away and moved his flashlight to my backpack.

"What's in the bag, guys?" the officer sighed, taking a few steps forward. Peter glanced to me, letting me know that I didn't have to do any talking.

"My girlfriend here is spending the next couple of days at my place," Peter spoke up. I was right about him being good at manipulating people. "It was a spontaneous decision and so I went to pick her up, and we figured we'd walk over since it wasn't too far if we took a shortcut through the woods. No point in wasting gas," Peter grinned. The cop looked to him skeptically.

"It's just my clothes and toiletries, officer," I confirmed. That was true; I didn't have anything sketchy in there, just enough to get by.

"Mind if I take a look?" he asked, heading towards my backpack.

"Go for it," I nodded, slinging it off of my shoulder. Peter gave me a look as the officer was unzipping it, but I shot him a wink. I was just as good at this game as he was, and he was starting to see that.

The officer zipped up my backpack and handed it back to me. "Well, no drugs like I thought. Where do you live, exactly?"

"Right over there," Peter pointed towards his house, which was visible in the distance.

"Oh, you're a Hale," the officer nodded. "My apologies. Just try to stay out of the woods at 12:30 in the morning, alright?"

"Will do," Peter winked as he waved to the officer, grabbed a hold of my hand and kissed my cheek as we walked off. "I could practically hear your heartbeat, Alex. I'm surprised he didn't."

"Oh, shut up," I playfully punched his arm. He laughed and pulled me closer, stopping our walk back to his house to lean close to me, our lips incredibly close.

"We still have an audience," his eyes flicked over to the police officer, who was walking back but not taking his eyes off of us. I looked up to Peter and smiled, who momentarily pulled away so we could keep walking towards the Hale house.


	4. Chapter 4

We had to be silent upon entering; he said his entire family had incredible hearing. I thought that was sketchy, but after him detecting the cops in the woods I believed it. When he closed his door was when I began to take off my boots. He stripped of his jacket first, eyeing me as I changed into something more comfortable in order to sleep. He did the same as he started stripping with ease.

"For once I get to watch you take your clothes off," I teased in a whisper. Peter smirked.

"Don't let yourself get too excited," he purred. I chortled and slipped myself under the covers of his bed; I released a light sigh as I sank into the mattress and the sheets, curling myself up under the comforter and blanket. "Don't take up the whole bed, now," Peter winked as he joined me.

"I'll try not to," I smirked. "Do you know how long it's been since I slept in a bed?"

"I thought you said you stayed in Los Angeles for a month and in San Francisco for a month?" he questioned.

"Doesn't mean I had a bed to sleep in," I shrugged. "It's killer on the back, but sometimes you just have to make due."

"What the hell happened to you, Alex?" Peter frowned. "I mean, it's pretty obvious that some serious shit has happened to you in the last few years and you're very well-articulated for someone who just seems to have given up on the world."

"I haven't totally given up," I corrected him, taken back by that statement. "Only a little bit. This is the longest I've ever stayed in one place without having to leave. This is also the first place where I've made a friend."

"So I no longer don't have any friends, is that right?" Peter smiled.

"Right," I turned to face him. I didn't realize how close we were until we were face-to-face. I could see, even in the darkness, the bright blue of his large eyes. There was something in his eyes that I couldn't tell what it was; hidden secrets and untold stories that I wasn't sure I would ever hear. I could smell the mint toothpaste he had used before we had slipped into bed together and I could feel his cool breath by my face. Our noses were so close that I was surprised they weren't touching; another millimeter and I'm sure they would have been. "You've got me now."

"And how do you feel about that?" he asked me, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"I'm still not totally sure what to make out of you," I admitted. "In all fairness, though, I don't know if I ever will."

A single laugh escaped from his lips. "You probably won't," he agreed. There was a twinkle in his eyes. "So, Alex," he continued, "what the hell happened to you?"

In this proximity, in this moment, I felt like I should have told him everything. I looked down for a moment, only to look back up and still find that intensity in his eyes. "I don't even know where to begin."

"How about the very beginning?" Peter suggested with the slightest hint of sarcasm rolling off of his tongue. "That's always a good place."

"Well, you know that I used to bartend," I tried, thinking of my words very carefully. "One night, a bar fight broke out because of me, I broke it up, the owner came out and ended up getting shot and I was told I was next. I believed it when I heard gunshots outside of my apartment window that night only to find that the person who lived below me had bullets break through their window and go through their apartment, so I left. I figured the farther away I could go, the better."

"Alexandria, you know I'm not stupid," he responded. "You know I know that what you just told me was missing about seventy-five percent of the whole story." I took a deep breath, not feeling as if I were able to meet Peter's eyes. "Your heartbeat is insane," he pointed out; this was true. He placed his hand over my heart, feeling the beat while hearing it. It must have been pounding at a million miles an hour. "Relax."

There was a long pause between us. "It's a long story," I decided on.

"I have all night," he pressed.

"I'm not talking about it." I tried to come across as firm, but he probably saw right through that. "Why don't I get to know your story?"

Peter's lips formed a sad half-smile for a brief moment. "We don't need to go there."

"Hypocrite," I responded immediately.

"I suppose so," he mused. There was more silence between us before I turned back over, my back facing him. "I also suppose that you have a lot of questions."

"Oh, trust me. I have plenty." There was a lot about Peter I still didn't know. I didn't even know his real age, just that he was close to my own. He rarely spoke of his family, and when he did it was briefly. He could kill me in this moment and I wouldn't even know, considering he was the master of manipulation. I didn't know if I believed a single word that ever came out of his mouth. After a few hours of lying there and finally feeling at least relatively safe, I no longer was. Peter heard them before I did, sitting up once he did. It didn't take long for me to hear them after him, and I knew those voices as well as I knew my mother's.

"She's got to be around here somewhere," the deeper voice mused. "This seems like the kind of place she would stop in."

"We're wasting our time, mate," the other spoke. "In case you haven't noticed, this is a small town. It'd be easier to find her. She isn't gonna hide out in a town with a few suburban areas, there's no real city for her to thrive in."

"Maybe she's here to throw us off," the deeper voice replied.

Peter immediately looked to me, probably hearing my heartbeat again. I still didn't understand how he managed to do that. "You know them?" he asked in a hushed whisper. I sat up and nodded, pursing my lips. "Who are they?"

"They're from New Orleans," I whispered, barely audible. I was surprised that he heard me, but I guess if he could hear my heart beat he could hear my softest whisper, too.

"I figured, they sound like it," Peter eyed me. "Who are they?" he asked again. I remained silent, but he kneeled in front of me, our eyes meeting once again. "Why won't you tell me?"

"I don't want you to judge me for it, okay?" I snapped. "I'm not exactly proud of what I've had to do."

"I'm trying to help you, Alex," he grabbed a hold of my hands. "I don't know why, but there's something about you that just screamed 'I need help.' I never try to help anybody but myself, so tell me everything. What the hell happened to lead to you working at that bar and that owner getting shot?"

I looked down, away from his eyes, only to look back up and see them still staring directly at me. "I…" I choked up on my own words. "I guess it all started when I was sixteen, when my parents got divorced."


	5. Chapter 5

Both my mother and my father came from very rich Louisiana families. We lived in the Garden District but my father spent a lot of time in the French Quarter. He told my mother that it was for work, but turns out his definition of work was cheap hookers after a few Hurricanes. Not only did his tab eventually get higher, but so did the price of the women he paid for. My mother was your stereotypical southern belle, and my father was the only man she had ever loved and given herself to. She was absolutely mortified, devastated and heartbroken. She kicked my father out and filed for divorce, and my father used the last of his money to get himself a place closer to those bars he spent many nights in every night. By some blessing of the grace of God, my father still managed to have visitation rights with me, so I went back and forth for two years between the Garden District and the French Quarter. My mother drowned her sorrows in champagne and social functions that she would host at the house in which we all used to live with my father and in which she still resided with me, and of course we were our best dressed. "Lexi," she would always say, "be sure to wear your Sunday best for tonight. I want us looking like a happy, well put-together family despite our recent tragedy." She always wore the best fake smiles and the best pearls and diamonds in the state of Louisiana. If she saw what I had worn now, she would have a heart attack, but it's all I can afford. She never spoke to my father again.

However, my father living in the French Quarter exposed me to sights my mother never let me even venture to before. I eventually had enough of my mother's antics and my father's continuing downward spiral, so the minute I turned eighteen I learned how to be a bartender and worked at one of the bars on Bourbon Street that I knew my father didn't attend. I was a favorite bartender, always mixing the drinks exactly how they liked and getting to know the customers on a more personal level and sharing jokes with them. While I attended my first semester I would commute, but between the money and the traveling I had to drop out. It broke my mother's heart and she hasn't spoken to me since.

Bartending wasn't enough to get me by, though, even after leaving college. It covered my rent, but I could barely afford food or clothes to wear. I applied everywhere I could, but nowhere would take me. Not hiring, not enough experience, overqualified, no college degree. Nobody wanted me. The only place that was hiring and would pay me any money whatsoever was the place that I never thought I would find myself walking into. A few blocks away from the bar I worked at was this run down, hole in the wall strip club. I never felt more at a low point in my life than I did the day that I walked into that hole in the wall and asked to speak with a manager. He took one look at me and told me when to come back and what to wear during it for my audition. I spent more money than I would have liked to on lingerie and already had a pair of killer heels. I never thought that I would have used those dance and gymnastics lessons I took all throughout my childhood and adolescence for this. When I found out I got the job, I cried myself to sleep for three nights before I began.

My first night working at the club, I walked out of there with $300. I felt dirty and helpless, but I could afford to live now. Apparently, I was a natural. My first customer, upon finding out he was my first customer, had slipped a fifty dollar bill into my bra alongside a few of his ones. Over time I began making more and more money, and while I still had to fork over a good chunk of it to the club, I still left there with more money per night than I made every two weeks bartending. I went by a different name at that strip club, so I could keep my bartending life and my stripping life separate. At the bar, I was Lexi. At the strip club, I was Crystal.

One night at the bar, while I was with a lot of the regulars and locals, laughing and having a great night, a few guys that I recognized from the strip club came in. Usually, the clientele at the club didn't come into the bar, and they didn't even know I worked here. They were surprised to see me when they came to the bar, ordering a few drinks and calling me by my stripper name. "Why does your name tag say Lexi? I thought you were Crystal!" one of them teased. I forced a smile and the guys at the bar could tell. The crowd was pretty young – ranging between twenty-five and thirty-five – and they all immediately defended me. Leave her alone, let her be, she's just trying to work here. But the three guys from the strip club persisted and didn't quit, and it reached a point where one even picked a fight with one of the guys at the bar. I called a manager over immediately and the bar owner was the first to come, and tried to break up the fight. The one fighting that normally visited the strip club brought out a gun and shot the owner as he tried to shoot at the customer, and my first instinct was to reach for the gun. I grabbed the man's wrists and pointed it away from the customer, and while I had aimed for the bottles behind me, he struggled too much and ended up pointing the gun at himself as he pulled the trigger. The customer fled and I ran to the back room as quickly as I could, not wanting to see the after math, and called 911 immediately. The other two left the bar before the police could arrive, screaming, "You're up next, Lexi, Crystal, whatever the hell your name is!" as they exited and drove off as quickly as they could. I stuck around to explain to the police what had happened and the guys at the bar where very eager to be of help.

When I got back to my apartment that night, I heard gunshots and glass breaking as a car sped off. The apartment below mine had been attacked, and I had a feeling that it was meant to be my window that those bullets went through. I packed my bags and left as quickly as I could. I was scared that my car was being tracked, so I went out and stuck my thumb up in the air. I got a ride immediately and taught myself how to jack a car and get away with it. I stopped in Los Angeles and San Francisco, but those two were determined to find me and I had still managed to be tracked, anyways.

"So those men," Peter confirmed, "are the men that were there when their friend got killed?" I nodded.

"They blame me for his death," I frowned. "They've been after me for months. Cops still haven't gotten a hold of them and there's wanted posters of them all over multiple states. I haven't really spoken to anyone for them to even know if I'm alive or dead. Sometimes I'll catch a glimpse of the news and it'll come up that they've gotten a lead but it went nowhere and that they still don't know where I am after that night."

"Alexandria, listen to me," Peter stated with confidence. "You are completely safe with me and in this house. I promise." While I had no idea who or what Peter was, it was the first time that I had completely trusted him; it was probably because whatever his secret was, it would be the thing that allowed for him to keep me safe.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter and I waited in silence for the two men to leave. It was easier for him to tell when they were gone due to his heightened senses, but I didn't even know how his senses were so much more heightened than my own. He still refused to tell me.

A week had passed since we heard the men outside. Peter insisted that I stay at the Hale house, but I couldn't possibly. It wasn't in my nature to stay locked up in one place, in one bedroom. I knew he was only trying to protect me but I couldn't allow myself to sit in a room for the rest of my life. Whenever I would go out for food or to walk, Peter would accompany me to make sure I was safe and I did appreciate that. It felt good to have him by my side as I walked through Beacon Hills.

One night he had slipped out alongside the rest of his family. The moon was full, shining through the windows of the house, but I decided to leave the Hale house seeing as I was completely alone. It was a cool summer night, and I found footprints in the dirt that was once mud, still a bit damp from yesterday's rain. I followed them, thinking that they were from members of the Hale family, and they went deep into the woods. Eventually paw prints were alongside the footprints. As it began to rain, like it had the night before, I wrapped my flannel tightly around me, hoping to find Peter or another of his family members. I wanted to call his name, but I was scared that I might find one of the men that were hunting me down.

I saw a figure out in the distance but I couldn't tell who it was. I picked a tree to hide behind and saw another figure and it was exactly who I had feared. "Do you think any of these footprints could be Crystal's?"

"Nah, she's been runnin' solo," the other shook his head. "Don't be stupid, Jim."

"It's ain't unlikely, though!" Jim retorted. I began stepping back, trying to distance myself from them while remaining hidden behind the trees. I was rather deep into the woods now, and it was a long shot from here to the Hale House. As I began moving, their heads turned and I quickly dodged behind the tree, hoping they didn't see anything. "Did'ja hear that?"

"Oh, I did," the other confirmed. "That sure as hell ain't no animal."

I should have known that coming out here was a terrible idea. I should have expected this. I found a rock and picked it up, throwing it off in the other direction so I could get away and distract them. As they followed the sound of the rock crunching against the leaves that were beginning to fall as autumn approached and summer ended, I was careful to run the opposite way, heading for the Hale house. The distraction didn't work for long, though, as a few moments later I heard a gunshot and ducked while beginning to run, seeing a bullet hit the tree next to me. I screamed at the top of my lungs, picking up the pace as the two men began to chase after me. I heard them get ready to fire once again but before they could shoot, I heard a low, loud growl that was followed by a roar. The men stopped and so did I, looking to see what caught their attention. Between me and the two men was Peter. I saw claws instead of fingernails. When he turned to look at me, his eyes were a bright golden-yellow and his teeth were now fangs. The men shot at Peter, making me cry out, but Peter looked back to the men and roared at them. He dug his nails into where the bullet had left an open wound and dug out the bullet, tossing it to the side of him as the wound healed itself.

"Well that was interesting," Jim noted. He pointed the gun past Peter and towards me, but I ducked back behind a tree as he fired. I then heard more growls and then the sound of the fighting. I held my breath, terrified as I heard gunshots and slashing and tearing. I couldn't bring myself to watch. A woman covering her body with nothing more than a large blanket ran up to me, reaching out a hand to me.

"Let's go," she whispered. She was very gentle, and I nodded, having a feeling that she knew Peter. As we fled the battle scene, I looked back at Peter, who was looking more like an animal than a human. He looked over to us, his eyes still yellow, and nodded at the woman who was running with me. She led me to the Hale house, directing me to the basement where she would meet me after she changed. "My apologies," she smiled as she came down the stairs, fully dressed now. "Whenever I shift, I shift back nude. Quite the inconvenience."

"I can imagine," I nervously laughed. "Who are you?"

"My name is Talia." Talia was very poised and graceful. "Peter's nieces and nephews are my children. I take it he hasn't told you anything?" I shook my head, and she sat by a tree that was rooted in their basement. "Have a seat. I'll explain."

"How do you know who I am?" I asked Talia, sitting beside her.

"I've heard things," she smiled, "but don't worry. There is no judgment in this house. You did what you had to do to survive."

"I guess you could say that," I shrugged. "So, um, what exactly happened tonight?"

"What did you see when you saw Peter in the woods?" Talia asked me. She was going to have me piece it together first.

"He had claws; that was the first thing I noticed," I remembered, "and his teeth looked more like fangs. His eyes weren't blue anymore, either. They were yellow or gold."

"And what did you hear?" she asked.

"Growls and snarls," I did my best to describe it, "and even a roar or two. It wasn't human."

"You're right," Talia nodded. "It wasn't human. Did it remind you of an animal?"

I remembered those details, the full moon, the howling I heard when I stayed in the distillery, and the paw prints I saw in the woods that must have been hers alongside her family. She must have been the alpha wolf. "A wolf," I answered after a moment of thinking. "Your family..?"

"All of us," Talia nodded in confirmation.

"You're the alpha?"

"Correct."

"That explains a lot," I ran my fingers through my hair. It was a lot to take in. I remembered when I was a little girl, for a few nights around the full moon I would hear howling and ask my mom if they were people shifting from man to wolf. She laughed and told me not to believe in such silly fairytales or else Santa wouldn't give me my presents that year. I always thought that it was a contradiction. "The heartbeat stuff, how he's always picking up on scents and sounds way sooner than I can. Wow."

"He's still the same Peter," Talia continued, "and let me tell you, I have never seen him act so compassionate towards somebody as I have seen him with you. He was telling the truth when he said you are safe in our home, but if you want to leave he will understand."

"Has he told you anything?" I asked her. She shook her head.

"I've only heard what you've said to him that one night about a week ago," Talia answered, "when those men were outside."

"I'll be here," I nodded. "I want to make sure he'll be okay."

"He'll heal," she reassured me, "but I'll send him this way when he gets here. I can sense that you'd like a moment alone," she smiled. I nodded – she was right – and Talia stood and left the basement. I wasn't sure how much time had passed before Peter came running down the stairs, blood dried on his shirt. He stopped at the end of the stairs when he saw me. I stood up, the two of us sharing a glance for a while before I ran to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face into his shoulder. Peter was shocked, taking a moment to realize what was happening before wrapping his arms around me, holding me close to him.

"I wasn't expecting this reaction," Peter chuckled.

"You're alive," was all I could muster. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he nodded, nuzzling his face into my hair. "Are you?" I nodded.

"Talia told me everything."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"It doesn't bother me, Peter."

Peter stopped speaking to listen for a moment. "You aren't lying." I shook my head. Peter kissed the top of my head, holding me even closer to him. We remained in that embrace for what felt like decades. After a while he pulled away ever so slightly, keeping his arms around me, and went to speak. He had difficulty forming the words, so I looked up at his now blue eyes.

"Shh," I smiled. "I know." Peter's face lit up as he leaned his lips in to meet mine.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter and I stayed in the basement for a few days to make sure that everything had blown over. I woke up each morning with the feeling of his kiss still on my lips, and I could swear that in the middle of the night sometimes I'd feel him kissing my cheek or my lips as gently as he possibly could. It almost seemed out of character for him, especially considering that one kiss we shared was so intense. That kiss was deep and his lips felt soft against mine, his palm resting on my cheek. It was as if he had put every emotion into it and I truly got to see another side of him. I never expected Peter to be the type to fall in love with a girl, just like I never expected myself to be the type to run away from home and never stop running. With Peter, though, I didn't want to leave. We were both misfits, I guess you could say, in our own way.

After that incident, I began to interact with the Hale family whenever they were around. The only names I remembered besides Talia and Peter were Cora, Laura and Derek. There were so many of them that it was hard to remember them all. I joined them at family dinners and they included me in their non-werewolf events to the best of their ability. It was the first time I really felt like I ever had a real family for the first time in a while. As a kid, my mother was too worried about her reputation amongst the fellow socialites to pay much attention to her daughter unless it was to make sure my dress was ironed and my bow was in my hair straight.

Talia had been right. Peter was still the same Peter. He was still sarcastic and dry and a bit of an asshole. But he saved my life, and like Talia said, he was more compassionate towards me than anyone else. He clearly saw something in me that he didn't see in anybody else. There were slight differences that I had noticed: we would lie closer together when we slept, with one of his arms draped around me; the occasional soft kisses he would leave in the middle of the night that he thought I couldn't feel. He was probably scared of what I would think so he kept up his tough guy demeanor when I was awake.

The police found the two men that had tried to kill me in the woods, blaming the death on an animal attack. The men were identified as wanted by multiple states for murder, and were identified as James "Jim" Bedford and Vernon Pellman. They were confirmed dead, with their estimated time of death being around the time that the fight had happened that night.

There was a dull morning where Peter and I had the whole day to ourselves – nobody else was home – and he surprised me by taking me out for coffee. As we left the coffee shop, Peter slipped his hand into mine and interlaced our fingers. We weren't holding hands for long, though, since before I knew it a man was pointing at me with a gun, yelling at me to freeze and place my hands over my head. There were two police officers, their car down the end of the road. I lifted my hands, as did Peter, and they told him to lower them. "What's going on?" I asked immediately.

"Cuff her," one of the cops said to the other. "Alexandria Porter?"

"Yes…"

"You're coming with us." Next thing I knew, my wrists were forcibly being grabbed and placed behind my back. I already knew what I was getting arrested for, but the office was being unnecessarily tough with me. I was in extreme pain, and I hadn't even retaliated or shown signs of trying to run.

"Could you be any rougher with me? I haven't even done anything!" At that, the cop shook his head and leaned me over the hood of the police car as he put on the handcuffs.

"That better for you?" he tried. "Oh, you're gonna be a pleasure to work with, I can tell."

I didn't feel comfortable at all. The handcuffs were rubbing against my skin and I could feel them grinding against the joints in my wrists. It hurt when he threw me against the car, securing the handcuffs, assuming that I was going to be violent. "Can I file for sexual assault for this? Because I feel a little compromised in this position." Peter smirked, but it left his face immediately as the officer slammed me into the roof of the car with a great deal of force. I winced in pain, shocked at how rough the police were handling me. I licked my lips and no longer felt Peter, but blood from where my lip had split when hitting the car.

"That really isn't necessary," Peter spoke up. He was clearly bothered with how they were treating me.

"Shut your mouth, kid, or you'll be cuffed too," the other officer spoke up. "Alexandria Porter, you're under arrest for carjacking in the state of California. You have the right to remain silence. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one then one will be appointed to you." I could feel his eyes on me. "I'm surprised it took us this long to find you." They practically tossed me in the car and slammed the door as they got in the front seat. I looked out the window to Peter, who was staring at me with the saddest look I've ever seen in someone's eyes as the car drove off.

I looked back at Peter as we drove off, and he was still standing there. There was so much that we had left unsaid, and I was scared that I wouldn't be able to get a hold of him if I ended up in jail. I felt like I was just starting to pull my life back together and finally had a family, but now there was a chance that I was being torn away from that.


	8. Chapter 8

"So, you know how they figured out it was you?" Another officer, who identified himself as Sheriff Stilinski, leaned forward as we sat in the interrogation room. "They said that there were no traces of fingerprints in the car, but they found a few strands of your hair in the car. They tested it and it lead to your identity."

"I'm not saying anything until I have my lawyer present," I sneered at Sheriff Stilinski. I knew better than to say a single word to the officers until I spoke to my lawyer; I didn't need anything else being held against me.

"You know you're guilty, don't you?"

"Still waiting on my lawyer," I reminded him. Of course I knew I was guilty, and Sheriff Stilinski knew I knew, but I wasn't about to just jump into saying that I was when I could work something out with a lawyer in order to get a less severe sentence. Sheriff Stilinski sighed.

Regardless of what my lawyer could have said or done, court was absolute hell. I wasn't there for very long, considering I took the plea deal and ended up with a sentence of five years instead of nine. I would have ended up with only three, but the guy I ended up carjacking was injured as a result of my assault in the process. Since they still had no idea about the other cars I stole – they were only charging me for this one – I was not considered a flight risk, and I would be held at $180,000 bond. I doubted anybody would help me; I wouldn't ask that of the Hales, not even sure if they could afford that, and I'm sure my own family wouldn't even try to help. I wasn't even sure that my mother or father would know about all this. As far as they knew, I could be dead on the street.

Peter was always on my mind. There wasn't a second that passed where I didn't think about him. The thing I was scared of more than not being able to find him was him forgetting about me. I would find him after this; I was determined. I didn't care how long it would take me, but I needed a fresh start and I wanted him there beside me.

While I was in prison, I did a lot of writing and drawing to pass the time. It definitely wasn't the highlight of my life, and it was never a situation I expected myself to be in. I made sure to not get too friendly with the fellow inmates but to get close enough to know who I was talking to. I didn't trust a single one of them, and because of that I mostly kept to myself. Prison gave me a lot of time to reflect on the last few years, and while this wasn't the exact place that I wanted to be, it would help me get myself there.

It took me a year to perfect a children's book that I had constructed the idea for. I called it [i]The Big Bad Wolf: The Tale of an Unlikely Hero[/i]. Each page had two lines, and was set up in an ABCB format of rhyme. I did all of the illustrations by hand.

_There once was a girl named Allie_  
_who once got lost in the woods._

_Every night she heard howling,_  
_so she'd hide as best as she could._

_And then one night in those woods_  
_she saw two men outside._

_The men were big and very scary,_  
_so Allie ran for her life._

_But from the woods, to her surprise,_  
_emerged half wolf, half boy_

_Who scared the scary men away_  
_giving Allie much joy._

_The werewolf said, "I do no harm,_  
_I only want to be your friend."_

_Allie smiled, took his hand,_  
_and said she would be until the end._

_His name was Pete, and he was kind,_  
_and through the woods he roamed._

_Now he spent his days with Allie,_  
_and shared with her his home._

_When Allie heard the howling at night,_  
_she knew now not to fear_

_For appearances can be deceiving,_  
_and she knew her Pete was near._

After I got out of prison, I felt as if the worst of my life was finally over. Once my court fees were paid off, I worked as hard as I could for a year to try to get my book published. After fourteen months, a publisher finally took me in and mass produced it to bookstores. _The Big Bad Wolf: The Tale of an Unlikely Hero_ ended up flying off the bookshelves faster than I could have ever anticipated. Critics called it a modern twist of Little Red Riding Hood, but with a happy ending and great promise. Plush toys were made of little Allie and Pete a few months after the book's release. There was a demand for more stories about Allie and Pete, and it was ironic because I no longer went by that name. I couldn't legally change it, since the judge thought I could potentially be using it to escape future run-ins with the law, but in reality I really just needed a fresh start. I wanted to leave my past behind and step forward. For my children's books, I called myself Wendy Hale. That was the only name I went by anymore. If I met someone new, which was usually through my book, I was no longer Alexandria Porter. I was Wendy Hale. It helped me continue to grow and made me feel closer to Peter, even though I had no idea how to contact him, especially after leaving Beacon Hills. They weren't in the phone book, and I was located in San Francisco to be closer to the publisher and the city, since I did a few book signings and readings at local libraries. With the money I made from my book, which was a surprising amount, I could afford a small apartment and clothes that would make my mother proud again.

As I was working on my second book, which would make _The Big Bad Wolf_ a series, I heard on the news of an unknown arsonist burning down a home in Beacon Hills last night. When I looked up, I almost fainted; it was the Hale house. I put down my pencil and watched, feeling extremely nauseous. I didn't want to believe what I was hearing. Eleven were reported dead. Only three had survived, but they didn't say who. I kept the news on in hopes that they would reveal the names of the survivors as I worked on my next book. Even if Peter was alive, I would still be devastated: they were my family. It felt strange immortalizing someone who could potentially be dead. I tried my best to work on the sequel, but I couldn't. I ended up crying on my couch instead, ordering some take-out Chinese food, and then crying myself to sleep after dinner.


	9. Chapter 9

They released the names the next day. Derek and Laura Hale were not home at the time of the incident, and Peter Hale had managed to escape but was in critical condition. He was currently at the long term care facility and in a coma with severe third degree burns. I knew that, as a werewolf, he would be able to heal, but it wouldn't be overnight. This would take him time. It was a long drive, but I had to see him. Even if he was in a coma, I had to go be there for him. I knew he wouldn't look exactly like the Peter I remembered – many years had passed and now he was badly scarred – but I knew he would still be my Peter.

It was strange to arrive in Beacon Hills for the first time since my arrest. I had packed my materials for writing and illustrating with me. The town really hadn't changed much at all. I was surprised at how well I remembered it. I had my own car now, so it was nice to not have to worry about wiping the DNA clean. I found the long term care unit of the hospital, heading straight to the woman at the front desk. "Hi," I smiled.

"Hi," she had a warm smile. "How may I help you?"

"Are patients here allowed visitors?" I asked, completely aware of the fact that she may say no and I completely wasted my time. It was worth a shot, though; if I didn't try, I would regret it forever.

"Of course, honey," the nurse nodded. "Who were you looking to see today?"

"I believe I'm in the right place," I nervously laughed, "but I'm looking for Peter Hale."

"Are you aware that he's in a coma?" she gently asked; she wasn't sure if I knew. I nodded.

"I have to see him," I pursed my lips. It pained me to know he was in such a critical condition, but I had to remind myself that he would heal over time. It may take years, but he would get better.

"I understand," the nurse nodded again; the look on my face must have said it all. "I'll lead you to him. Right this way, Miss..?"

"Hale," I answered. "Wendy Hale." She gave me a look and I could tell she wanted to ask. "We aren't related. Just coincidence. He and I are old friends."

"Right," she nodded. "Aren't you the author of that Big Bad Wolf book? My daughter loves it."

"That's me," I nodded with a smile, following her down the hall. My heels clicked against the linoleum tiles. "I'm in San Francisco usually but I heard about the fire on the news and had to come up as soon as I could. I might do a surprise book signing while I'm here," I winked at the nurse.

"We'll be sure to come by, then," the nurse laughed. "Is it true that you're working on another one?"

"My publicist won't let me answer that question," I sighed. She looked to me and I gave her a wink. She grinned. "I'm glad your daughter loves it. Really, I am. It means a lot." She looked at me again and saw that I truly did mean it; after all of my hardships, to hear something like that made it all worth it. I shook her hand and she let me have a moment alone with Peter.

I pulled up the chair that was beside his bed and sat down. He no longer looked like a boy, but a man. Half of his face was wrapped in gauze, alongside other parts of his body. His hair was a bit lighter than the last time I saw him about six years ago, but his eyes – which were still open – were still the same shade of blue that I knew. Those lips were still the same lips that I remembered kissing, but the right side was under the gauze. I reached for his hand that wasn't wrapped, gently placing my own over it and wrapping my fingers around his. I could feel my tears welling up and I didn't bother to stop them; it would be pointless. "Peter," I whispered, "I've heard that you can hear people when you're comatose, and I hope to God that's true," I leaned over, kissing his hand as gently as I could. "But it's me. It's Alex. Remember me?" I knew he did. He had to have. "I don't go by Alex anymore, though. I wrote a book about us, but it's for kids. I figured the only way I could tell a true story about werewolves and have anyone believe it would be if I told it to kids," I laughed lightly. "Allie and Pete. It's toned down a lot, obviously, but it's us. We have our own plushies and stories. I tried to reach a hold of you, Peter, I did, but I couldn't find you guys anywhere. I had to start fresh and I wanted to find you so badly, and I wanted to go back to the Hale house, but my book got picked up and things got crazy. I heard about the fire and I rushed here the second I heard you were alive." More tears began to flow from my eyes and down my cheeks. "God, you're beautiful," I looked back to him. "Despite all of this, you're still beautiful. I hope you can hear me. Damn it, I hope you can hear me. I haven't stopped thinking about you, Peter. I love you," I finally admitted, letting the tears spill down my neck. "I do. I haven't stopped over the last, what, six years now? Pushing seven? Damn, we're getting old," I laughed. "I wish you could see me right now. I'm not even the same person. As much as prison sucked, it was one of the better things to happen to me. But you," I gently ran my fingers through his hair, "are still the best." I wiped away some of the tears as I smiled, knowing my makeup was shot to hell. I spent two hours just sitting there talking to Peter before I realized I had work to do. Before I left the hospital, I grabbed a few tissues and dabbed my eyes and wiped away some of my makeup, saving a few for the car.

"Is he Pete from your book?" the nurse asked. "Well, what inspired him?" I nodded once, still wiping my eyes with the tissue. My tears didn't stop. She offered me the whole box, which got a laugh out of me as I politely declined.

"I'll be back," I nodded, doing my best to control my tears. I contacted the local library and asked if they'd be interested in a last minute book signing; it was something I wanted to do after the Hale fire. They agreed to it and I would be there again in two days. I found a cheap bed and breakfast downtown Beacon Hills and got to work on the sequel while I was there. Visiting Peter had given me more inspiration, as did being here in Beacon Hills in general. I walked through the woods after my breakfast the next morning, and the memories flooded back. I accidentally stumbled upon where the Hale house was and was heartbroken to see it so run down and destroyed. Crime scene tape surrounded the house and detectives were searching for evidence, presumably. Speaking to more detectives were who must have been Derek and Laura; my God, had they grown up. Laura had grown to look a lot like her mother, and you could see Talia in Derek, too.

I shouldn't be here by this house. They were my family, but they didn't know me anymore and I didn't know them anymore. Laura turned around and saw me as I was leaving. She got Derek's attention, and the two of them craned their necks to see me walking away from the Hale house.

At my book signing a few days later, I saw the nurse that I had spoken to whenever I went in the hospital to see Peter – which had been every day so far for at least an hour – and her daughter, who was seven. She must have been born around the same time as my arrest. As I signed the girl's book, I looked up to her mother and saw the struggle in her eyes. I noticed there was no ring around her finger, and I could read her like a book. I took out one of my business cards and wrote down my personal phone number on the back. "This is my personal number. If you ever need anything," I handed her the card, "please don't hesitate to call me or email me. Okay?" The nurse beamed, and I saw tears welling in her eyes.

"I really needed that," she whispered. "Thank you." I smiled back at her.

"I mean it," I reinforced.

"Is Pete a real person?" the little girl asked. I giggled and leaned over the table to whisper my answer.

"So is Allie," I winked. "They're very, very dear friends and very, very real."

"Are they in love?" she then asked me, hope in her eyes. My smile couldn't help but grow.

"I think so," I leaned back into my chair. The little girl's whole face lit up; she reminded me a lot of myself when I was seven.

"I'll see you tonight?" the nurse asked me. I nodded. She smiled, escorting her daughter off as I greeted the next family in line. There was a young boy and his mother; he couldn't have been older than five. He asked me if werewolves were real, and his mother reminded me of my own.

"Don't be silly, honey," she ruffled his hair. The boy looked so broken by this.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Sammy," he meekly answered.

"Let me tell you a secret, Sammy," I leaned over the table again. His eyes began to light back up again. "What I think your mom meant was, don't be silly because of course they're real! If you behave really well one day and ask your mom real nicely, maybe she'll let you stay up and listen to them howling late at night in the woods."

"They are real?!" he asked excitedly.

"I've seen them," I grinned. "Some of them are big and scary and mean, but some of them are kind and gentle just like Pete. Right?" I looked up to his mother. The look on her face was priceless.

"Right," she nodded. I gave her a wink and after I signed Sammy's book, she was off without a goodbye.

It felt good meeting all of the children of Beacon Hills and surrounding areas that enjoyed my story. If I could help them at all so they wouldn't end up how I did, even just one child, then I had done my job. After the signing, I got some dinner for myself and the nurse I had spoken with earlier. When I arrived and handed her a bag, she looked shocked. "Do you like grilled chicken sandwiches? I thought it was a safe bet."

"You didn't have to do that!"

"Well, I did," I grinned. "How many times have I seen you here without anything to eat? Here," I placed the bag down on her desk. "You deserve it. Your daughter is adorable, by the way."

"Why have you been so nice to me?" she asked quietly.

"Because," I tucked some of my hair behind my ear, "I've been through a lot, too. I know that look. And you've been nothing but kind to me. Like I said, you deserve it. Now enjoy your dinner before I make you," I smirked. She laughed and opened up her bag of food as I headed towards Peter's room. I spoke with him much longer tonight than I usually did; the nurse even checked up on me to make sure I was okay. I stayed so late that a new nurse ended up coming in for her shift, curious as to who I was and what I was doing visiting Peter Hale so late at night. "It'll all be okay," I kept whispering to him, although I knew it was probably mostly to myself. "It'll all be okay."


	10. Chapter 10

I stayed at that bed and breakfast for two weeks before returning to San Francisco, but still made a visit up at least once a month. I had to focus on my work and making sure I had gas in my car, otherwise I would have been up there every day. When the sequel kicked off I ended up traveling with that, and I still wasn't accustomed to things in life working out alright for me. Even though everything had fallen into place, there was still an empty hole in me waiting for Peter. A few of my colleagues that I had befriended wanted to set me up on dates but I always declined; it just didn't feel right. The time I finally said yes to shut them up, I regretted it immensely. I would have rather gone back to prison than gone on a second date with that man. At least Peter understood that I was equally as intelligent and dry as he was. A lot of these men didn't realize that, just because you work incredibly well with children, doesn't mean that you're how you are with young ones all the time. They would be shocked when I would make a sarcastic joke or remark, even one in the slightest, not seeming to understand that I was capable of that or intelligent conversation. I was more than just some lonely girl who wrote little children's fairytales, god damn it. I was interesting. I had depth to me and was so much more than some shallow twenty-seven year old.

I missed Peter. I missed him so much. Just talking to him by myself and having a one-sided conversation wasn't enough; I missed his smile, that light that would shine in his eyes whenever he had a sly remark, that smooth voice of his. After a few years, he wasn't in the hospital anymore. They didn't say anything to me, but I figured it out for myself when I headed back to see him and the room was empty except for the bed and the chair. I don't think anybody had the heart to break it to me that he was gone.

After that, it was hard for me to go back to Beacon Hills. I stopped going for a year and just focused on my children's stories before I reached a point where I was having severe writer's block. I knew there was only one place I could go.

It hurt so much to go back to that town. Peter was dead and there was nothing I could do about it. Being back this time was far more bizarre than my first time being reunited with the city after I was released from jail. It was pretty depressing, really; I was so successful but I was so lonely. I was in my early thirties, still looked as good as I did when I met Peter at twenty years old, but I didn't have a boyfriend or a husband or a family like anyone else I knew my age. I was still pining after a dead man.

I was headed towards that bed and breakfast I stayed at, which was now surrounded by apartments, while speaking on the phone with one of my friends and a fellow author that was trying to set me up on a date with this guy she knew in the Beacon Hills area. "It's hard for me, Lisa," I shook my head. "Life isn't exactly easy when the guy you're in love with has been dead for a year and was in a coma for six. I'm usually the type to just move on with things, you know that, but he seemed to stick."

"You need to give this guy a chance, Wendy," Lisa sighed. "Listen to me. He's a real nice guy. He's only like, a year older than you and he makes enough money for you to never have to write another book again if you don't want to, he's a CEO. He's real sweet and isn't showing any signs of balding. He kind of looks like Patrick Dempsey, he's a real good lookin' guy. He's never been married and has no children. It's perfect."

"I'm not really the Dempsey type," I laughed. I couldn't think of any more excuses as to why I wasn't interested in these guys, considering me not being over a guy I haven't actually spoken to in about thirteen years – only seven to her understanding - wasn't good enough for her.

"Alex?" I heard a familiar voice call out, but at first it didn't register. I hadn't gone by Alex in so long. "Wendy?" I turned to see who it was, and I nearly dropped my phone. I rushed to grab it before it could hit the ground. I was in complete and utter shock at who I was staring at.

"Lisa? I'll call you back," I said into the phone as quickly as I could, shoving it in my pocket. "Peter?" I couldn't believe my eyes. There he was: it was the same face I remembered from the hospital, but it was completely healed now. You couldn't even tell that he had been burned. His hair was a bit shorter and slicked back, and he had grown a little bit of facial hair, but those lips were still his. Those eyes were still as blue as I remembered. "You… you're alive?"

"You're alive?" he countered. I nodded slowly, examining him to make sure that he wouldn't just disappear. I was terrified that I was seeing things.

"You're alive?" I asked again. The corner of his lips tugged up as he nodded, too; neither of us could really say anything. He began to take a few slow steps towards me, but I ran for him. The embrace felt like deja-vu as I wrapped my arms around his neck, his arms carefully holding me close to his body as my face rested into his shoulder. I didn't know when I started crying, but I certainly had. "You're alive," I stated this time.

"This is familiar," Peter chuckled. "Of course I'm alive; I'm clever. You told me so yourself." I smiled through my tears at the memory.

"How did you know to call me Wendy?" I suddenly realized.

"Because, darling," he nuzzled his face into my hair, just like he had over ten years ago, "I heard every word you said."

"You thought I was dead," I reminded him.

"I thought I was hallucinating," he confirmed. "Talia told me you were gone. I didn't quite know what 'gone' meant. I would have done things very differently if I had known you were alive and well, writing children's books about the two of us in the woods."

"It's okay, neither of us has the cleanest track record," I grinned. Peter pulled away from me and wiped away my tears. He kissed my forehead.

"It really is you." He was in just as much disbelief as I was. "Where were you headed?"

"The bed and breakfast down the road," I sniffled.

"No need," he smiled. "I live here. It's a cute little apartment. Only one bedroom though, but we'll manage like old times."

"Of course," I wiped away more of my tears. The memories swarmed my mind like a wildfire. "Sorry, I didn't expect to be crying so much. I-"

"Shh," he winked, reminding me of what I had said to him all those years ago. "I know." Peter kissed my lips for the second time, and every unsaid word over the past thirteen or so years no longer needed speaking. His lips felt exactly how I had remembered. He was more confident, even a bit cocky which was more normal for him than it had been the first time we kissed. Before I knew it, I found myself in his apartment. We both woke up naked the following morning to the sound of a cell phone ringing. Peter groaned as he saw it was Derek calling him, answering it regretfully. "What do you want, Derek?"

"Are you busy?" I heard Derek ask. Peter pulled my body in closer to his, kissing my temple. I could only smile in contentment as I turned around to face him.

"Yeah, you could say that," Peter responded groggily.

"Doing what, sleeping? We need you over here." Sarcasm clearly ran in the family.

"With a beautiful woman, yes, I am actually," Peter retorted. "I'd apologize but I'm not sorry. That kind of takes priority right now. What did you need me for?"

"Deucalion took Isaac's memories of finding Boyd and Erica away from him and we're trying to get them back. You're the only one we know that can help."

Peter sighed. "I'll be over in a few hours."

"For some random girl in your bed? Really?"

"I'd hardly call her random," Peter frowned. "You know her, Derek. Don't be so rude, my goodness. I'll be over in a few hours, alright?"

"Fine. I'll talk to you later." Peter hung up on Derek, tossed his phone onto the bedside table and wrapped both arms around me.

"Sorry about him."

"Don't worry about it," I giggled. "I'm just happy to be here." I was; I couldn't have been happier. Peter shifted his arms and rolled himself on top of me, the smirk on his face the brightest I've ever seen it as he kissed my lips again. I wrapped my arms around his upper torso, pulling him into me, feeling his body against mine. I finally felt home again.


End file.
